And I Owe It All To You
by DeyCallMeBeacon
Summary: A broken Quinn is finally going to New York to visit Rachel, but when she arrives she finds Sam has moved there upon graduation also. She never stopped loving Sam. He was perfect, she was unpredictable. Can she have the love she's dreamed about for so long once again?
1. Chapter 1: The Ride

**Chapter One: The Ride**

New Haven was just an hour and a half away, but yet Quinn hadn't visited even once for almost eight months. She should have visited though; Rachel was always a good friend to her. Hell, she even knew about the gardenia, did Rachel really think she would believe Finn knew that?

But Finn is gone and Quinn should have visited Rachel. For support at the very least, but she was afraid. Afraid Rachel hasn't forgiven her for all she's put her through. Afraid she would bring up bad memories for Rachel, when she didn't need them at all. Afraid Finn's death would bring up bad memories for her and all her past mistakes that have all but disappeared. Quinn still suffers for her biggest one. The one she thinks about every day.

She should consider herself lucky. Lucky she was able to get an Amtrak train cabin all to herself on such short notice. She had her thoughts all alone. She needed this.

Quinn gripped her pencil tighter and stopped tapping it on the window sill. She watched the different shrubberies run together like a melting pot of different shades of green and tan crayon. She couldn't think about anything else. Those lips pressed up to her temple gracing her forehead with a gentle kiss. Her fingers intertwined with his, never planning on letting go.

The train slowed as the shrubbery turned into pale, grey concrete. Slowly the subtle yet intrusive roar of the wheels against tracks came to a stop, only to be replaced with the muffled random sounds of a crowd. Quinn stood up and slid her notebook into her little light brown bag. She always packed lightly, because if something happened to her bag, she didn't want to be lacking in clothing back home. Quinn made one more glance out the window and her eyes were immediately drawn to a bleach blonde woman in a blood red pea coat. The woman was looking down at the ground expectantly, as if she were waiting on the ground to open up and swallow her whole.

Quinn's mind began to race to conclusions she drew far too early. She wondered if she had been left alone at the train station, yet another time, waiting for someone who might never come. She wondered if the woman had made the same mistake she did and came here every day, in an effort to never forget something that was long lost.

The woman looked up to face the crowd with a confused yet elated look on her face, turning her head sixty degrees either way, until she found what she was looking for. A tall man rushed toward the woman and wrapped his muscular arms around her. She looked him in the eyes for only a few seconds before embracing him with a kiss. Quinn looked away; she would never know their story. Did he forgive her for her mistake and come back to the love she missed for so long? Or was he just returning home from a long business trip? It didn't matter anyways, they were strangers and this wasn't Quinn's stop.

Quinn sat back down and pulled her notebook back out. She had a paper to write. With her index finger and thumb she delicately pulled the pencil out of the metal binding and began to write in her familiar handwriting, a cursive and print mixture with an abundance of dainty swirls. She wrote only a few words, "Theatre History: Antigone," before her mind began to wonder once again. She imagined the beautiful lips only he had, barely touching her ear, whispering some joke she hardly understood, but yet so easily made her giggle. She imagined those lips again, interlocking with hers in a hesitant way, afraid she wasn't in the mood. Soon his shoulders would lose tension and relax. He would let his hand fall on her upper thigh slightly under her uniform skirt. His lips would loosen too as the kisses became more forceful and more passionate.

Quinn sighed. How she longed for that just one more time, she would never make him stop there again. "Mistakes are what make a person." She whispered, quietly trying to reassure herself she'll be okay without him ever again.

The pencil Quinn gripped tighter and tighter with every passing moment had barely touched the paper when she was awoken from the pulchritudinous day dream that was her past by a slam and a girlish giggle. She looked up to see a young brunette girl pressed up against the door of her cabin and two large hands on either side of her. Quinn sighed once more and closed her notebook. She wasn't getting her paper done on this ride. She stood up and knocked on the glass. The woman jumped and turned around unlatching her lips from his.

"Excuse me, do you need something?" Quinn asked in an agitated tone. She didn't intend to be a mood killer. She didn't intend to be perceived as mean, she just didn't want to be reminded anymore of what she couldn't _really_ have.

"No… N-no, ma'am sorry to bother you." The girl stammered. Quinn hated being called "ma'am," It made her feel old and she was just barely twenty.

"But do _you_ need something miss?" The young man retorted. The young woman's hand rose up from her side and connected with his arm playfully as she gave him a dirty look. He rolled his eyes, nodded his head, and turned around. Quinn liked "miss," much better.

As the couple began to walk away with the man leading the girl spoke one last time "Sorry, again."

Quinn looked down and inhaled deeply, holding it inside of her for as long as she could. She exhaled quickly looking up and back at her reflection in the window. She made an attempt at a smile. Same Quinn, nothing has changed, right? Only she felt empty like she has been for a long time; ever since he found out about her mistake. She wanted to be with him, but why would he want to be with her? He was perfect, she was unpredictable.

She carefully walked back to her bench, sat back down, and looked at her phone. She had plenty of time for a quick nap. She scrolled through the endless alarms she had set for various events throughout her life with that phone. Checking to make sure the one she had set earlier was still on, she noticed her note she had left herself. It was her favorite bible verse: "And now these three remain: faith, hope, and love. But the greatest of these is love." It always helped her when she was plagued with her beautiful, yet painful day dreams of him. The note ended with an ambiguous "S.E." and heart emoji.

"Love." She whispered to herself. But what use was it when he didn't love her back? She made a mistake, and nothing can change that.

Quinn fell back on the bench and leaned her head on the wall behind her, her curled blonde hair sprawled down the back of the bench. She closed her eyes gently and breathed in. "Love" she exhaled once more.

She had closed her eyes for what felt like only a few seconds when she heard a faint, deep, familiar voice. "Lor Menari," it said. It was him.

"Sam?!" she called out as she opened her eyes quickly and glanced around her cabin only to find it just as empty as she had left it; the barking of her alarm the only sound in the room. "It means you have pretty eyes." Quinn said to herself as she looked down at her pale yellow flats neatly placed on the ground. "It's Na'vi." She chuckled. "The avatar language?" She looked up at the ceiling tiles and smiled, wondering just how many tiles are in this cabin. "'Lor Menari'" she whispered with an unwavering smile.


	2. Chapter 2: You Wouldn't Want That

**Chapter Two: You Wouldn't Want That**

Twelve. There were twelve tiles in just her cabin. Why it took her so long to count them out, she has not a clue. Other than she kept getting distracted; distracted with memories from… before.

Somehow hearing Sam's voice made Quinn feel amazing inside, she hadn't had a feeling like this, a feeling she can't even begin to explain, since when she was with Sam. But hearing his voice and remembering that nerdy pick-up line that made her fall on her ass so hard for him also scared her. She was afraid she would die alone without him. She wasn't just afraid, she knew she would. She _was_ however afraid he would never love her again; that he would never forgive her. But how could he, when she hurt him so badly? But she held out hope, even if it seemed so bleak. "God, works in strange ways." She remembered her pastor telling her once. That he did.

Oh, those uniquely large lips, to none could they compare. Those lips softer than any lips she's ever touched before. Sam had a perfect reason to be addicted to lip balm. She's kissed far too many lips after him in an effort to move on and forget something she never really wanted to forget. She kissed Puck's lips.

"Stay," Quinn whispered mockingly. How could she be so stupid? Puck talked such good game. It seemed like he had changed. But, of course, she was wrong. Why did she ever think he would change?

Oh, that body. Sam kept it in tip-top shape. You really could "cut glass" on those abs. She still remembered his body pressed up against her, only her uniform and his polo and worn jeans separating their skin. How she's dreamed about him holding her tightly in his muscular arms caressing the curves of her body while they made out on the love seat in her den.

She needed to get away from everything. Just go back to her friends. So Quinn packed her little light brown bag and bought a train ticket to New York and left, all in one day.

Oh, that blonde hair, she could still feel it, even then, as if she were running her fingers through it while making out. It was so cute how Sam dyed it with lemon juice, Kurt was right, but it didn't take away from the attraction at all. He was beautiful.

The things Puck would call her. It was like nothing had changed, like he didn't even join the military. The day after he came over completely wasted, looking sex, and calling her the names he used to in high school, was the day she left. "Once a lima loser, always a Lima loser." She sighed.

Oh, those silly jokes and impressions. His James Earl Jones impression was always her favorite. Every time Sam did one she would blush and giggle; not completely sure when she would be able to stop. Sometimes she acted like she was annoyed, but he knew better, she loved them.

Quinn missed all of Sam and couldn't stop. He treated her right, he wasn't just attracted to her for beauty, he didn't care that she was a teen mom, and most importantly he loved her. He loved her with all his heart. He even did all of those beautiful things "without_ trying to sound like Matthew McConaughey__._" Quinn smiled at that memory. He was still sweet to her, and he never stopped being sweet to her, he treated her like an old friend. But, she took all that love he had to give and threw it on the ground and stomped on it… All because she was scared.

Quinn glanced up at window and noticed the colorful surroundings had changed once again to a pale grey. She looked slightly up to her left and noticed the sign. "Penn Station" she read aloud. She hadn't even noticed the quietness of the train or the bustle of the crowd. Sam still continues to attract _and_ distract.

Quinn flew off the bench and out of the cabin before making a sharp turn around and speed walking back into the cabin. She almost left her little light brown bag under the bench; she packed lightly for this exact reason.

Nodding to the young man who helped her down from the platform Quinn made her way to the front doors. "Where are you from?" the man asked. He was following her, even at her brisk walking speed.

The brunette woman in front of her had on a blood red pea coat. Quinn instantly thought back to the bleach blonde girl at the other station. She still wondered about their story, but there was no way she would ever find out. She would just have to go home and write out their story, the way she wants it to be. She had taken up that hobby recently to relieve stress and it was working wonders.

"Um, New Haven." She responded abruptly, pushing up the sleeves of her white cardigan. She really wasn't interested in talking to a stranger, much less so flirting with a stranger.

"Yale? I went there!... Well, I wish I went there." He chuckled at his own joke.

The corners of Quinn's lips turned up in an attempt at a smile. "Yeah, Yale." Quinn quietly spoke while spinning around to face him. He was handsome alright, but he couldn't compare to Sam. She felt bad, he seemed sweet, but it wouldn't be fair to him _or_ her to even go on one date, because she's in love with someone else. "Listen, I'm sorry, but I'm in a bit of a hurry. I'd love to stay and chat, but I can't." She said sympathetically.

"I'm sorry," he looked down at the ground as Quinn turned around and began to walk away "but can I at least get your number? I live near New Haven." He yelled out to her as his head shot back up.

Quinn stopped, turned around, breathed in deeply and said in a sad tone, just barely loud enough for him to hear her "You wouldn't want that." Just like that Quinn spun around, her pale lemon yellow and white polka-dotted dress twirling, and walked off into the crowd of people coming from all different directions.


	3. Chapter 3: Relentless Advertising

**Chapter Three: Relentless Advertising**

"Where are ya goin'?" the older woman asked loudly in an unnecessarily heavy New Yorker accent as Quinn ducked into the taxi. She looked around the cab; it wasn't exactly how she expected it to be. She wasn't sure exactly how she expected it, but this was not it.

"Bushwick." Quinn said in her usual voice: jazzy and seductive. It was her normal voice, and in her opinion: it was a gift from God. Not to mention the singing voice he gave her isn't too shabby either.

"Address?" the woman asked as if she had asked a thousand times already. Quinn thought for a moment, trying to recall the address.

"Shit… Can you give me just a moment, I'll find out the address, please?" Quinn pleaded as she looked out the window, not wanting to make eye contact. This woman made her uncomfortable for some reason. She seemed colder. Even colder than Quinn's sophomore self.

"This is New York, I don't have all day. Address now or find another cab." She spoke sharply, as if Quinn had offended her in some way. Quinn looked up at the woman looking back at her in the mirror. Her eyes were dark and had dark circles to match underneath.

Quinn wasn't up for a fight; she had other things to worry about. She leaned over, pulled the sticky handle and pushed the door open with her foot. "Damn tourists" the woman spits out under her breath as she pulls back out into traffic, barely giving Quinn enough time to shut the door.

Quinn looked down at her pale yellow shoes standing in the rain gutter. They were dirty. "Just ten minutes in New York and my shoes are already dirty." Quinn said to herself as she stepped onto the sidewalk, pulling her phone out of her little brown bag. She felt that what she just said was a metaphor, but she couldn't put her finger on it, so she dismissed it.

"What's the address again?" Quinn pressed send on the text to Rachel. Quinn looked around, there wasn't anywhere to sit, and she sure as hell couldn't stand in the middle of the sidewalk. She didn't want people wondering about her story, because her story was depressing, and you could tell in her face.

"I wonder where Sam is now." Quinn thought to herself as she stepped behind a ginger haired woman in a blood red pea coat, which seemed to be popular now. "I bet he's happy," she hoped "I bet he's doing well and has a beautiful girlfriend… a girl who may be Mrs. Sam Evans one day." Quinn wished it would be her.

Quinn turned the corner and found yet another Starbucks. There seemed to be at least one on every corner. Quinn finally gave in to the relentless advertising and walked into it. It was packed with an incredibly large line for such a small establishment. If anyone was looking for someone else in there, he or she would be close to impossible to find. But she could at least get a coffee while she waited on Rachel's reply.

Even with all the young, attractive eligible bachelors buzzing around her that were probably dying to get the beautiful blonde's number, she couldn't get _him_ out of her mind. "Where does he even go to college? I mean if he decided to go." Quinn thought to herself as she stepped forward in line. He could be anything he wanted, Quinn knew that. He wouldn't have any trouble being the brightest star wherever he went.

"Hi, how can I help you?" The thin black woman behind the counter asked her in a rushed tone.

"Excuse me?" Quinn asked; she wasn't exactly paying real close attention to her surroundings.

"Your order, honey?" The woman asked sounding slightly agitated. Quinn could see why, too; the place was brimming with rushed business men and women.

"Uh, a Carmel Mocha with a shot of vanilla, please." Finally. Quinn felt like she had been waiting forever. The woman inputted it into her computer and relayed the price back to Quinn. It was high compared to New Haven's Starbucks' prices, but what did she expect? It was New York after all.

Returning her wallet back into her cardigan pocket Quinn stepped off to the side and stood near the counter that held the sugar and stirring straws. She had just begun to watch the mother in yoga pants balancing a coffee in one hand, her phone pressed up against her ear in the other, and a child on her arm when her phone vibrated in her white cardigan pocket.

The glare made it hard to see, but Rachel had replied with the address and a smiley face at the end. Quinn headed straight for the door. She didn't really want her coffee, whoever wanted it could claim it. She really just wanted to see her friends again.

The barista with the soda can sized gauges held up a coffee as the glass door detailing "Starbucks" shut behind Quinn. "Sam Evans," the young man yelled out reading the name on the side of the cup. "Sam Evans!"


End file.
